


A Fine Day in Norende

by sanctum_c



Category: Bravely Default (Video Game) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Career Change, F/M, Light-Hearted, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28312884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanctum_c/pseuds/sanctum_c
Summary: “I don’t know.” She huffed. “Somewhere. Anywhere.” Ebony gestured again. “Everywhere.” She picked at the grass again. “I just don’t want to be here all the time.”Circumstances put Tiz in close proximity to the oddity of the village.
Relationships: Tiz Arrior/OC
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	A Fine Day in Norende

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bravely Secret Santa 2020 for Kaspar.
> 
> I chose the following prompt: _tiz x reader/oc with philosophical themes???_

Another fine day in Northrende. Tiz brushed his hair out of his eyes and surveyed the fields. His family’s sheep stood arrayed across the greenery munching away contently.

The sun was warm and the sky was blue, a few white clouds dotted here and there. Little for him to do but watch the sheep, day-dream and wait until it was time to guide the flock home. He lay back on the grass.

A succession of muffled giggles and whispers sounded somewhere behind him. The words were on the cusp of his hearing and never nudged over into coherency. With a sigh he sat up and glanced around.

First thing: the whispers and giggles were not directed at or about him. Milly and Meryl from the village had paused on their way back from the woods, baskets heavy with foraged berries, fruit and bark. They were facing away and looking at something.

Second thing: beyond them, on a higher slope of the field, was a figure in dark clothing.

So, Ebony was over here today.

Not her real name, but attempting to talk using anything else got neither Tiz nor anyone else – excepting her parents - anywhere fast. Naru was too plain or pedestrian. Or so it seemed based on the last conversation Tiz had with her.

Not as if Ebony was about to admit any mention made to a person named Naru was remotely related to her in the third person. Nor did knowledge of this detail did not help with the resulting meandering conversations; talking to Ebony tended to occur along a strangely sprawling route which, if Tiz was lucky, would occasionally result in something close to a solid point.

Ebony’s attitude tended to provoke amusement for many other Northrende inhabitants. Hence Milly and Meryl finding her a source of amusement today. With a sigh, Tiz called to the two girls. “Leave her alone.”

Both Milly and Meryl jumped, glancing around in fear before their gazes settled on him. “We are leaving her alone Tiz.” Meryl rolled her eyes. “She’s all the way over there.” She gestured to the brooding figure.

“Doesn’t mean you should make fun of her.”

“Tell her to go do her job. Or if she doesn’t want to do that, then help us.” Milly narrowed her eyes. “All she does is sulk around.” Her lips twitched into a grin. “Why do you care anyway?” Mischief in her eyes now. “Do you like her?”

“What? No!” There were times when Tiz wondered about his hasty automatic denial of attraction to other people. Older people in the village got married. They liked each other – mostly. A few seemed legally bound as part of some older traditions and actually tolerating each other was about the best they could hope for, but the majority seemed to actively enjoy each other’s company. Some of the older teenagers were openly affectionate to each other and spent time together. And yet, somehow the mere suggestion of attraction when related to him provoked such a strong reaction and flagrant denial. And rarely believed.

Milly’s expression remained sceptical. “Wonder if we should let her know. She is-“ A sharp whistle split the air and Milly – in deference to her traditional attitude – swore. One of the coarse vulgar words sometimes bandied around by peddlers and traveling salesman who were less guarded about language use. Many children of Norende leapt straight on the forbidden words as a minor retort to parental authority, though usage was risky. A few tiresome children were quick to inform parents if someone uttered a swear word and any attempted defence upon confrontation never worked. Tiz stayed well out of it. “We’re late.”

Across the fields Milly’s father let out another piercing whistle; Milly and Meryl scrambled to their feet and hurried off towards him. “We’ll give you two some privacy.” Meryl shot him a smirking grin and Tiz resisted the temptation to object.

He was now alone in close proximity to the oddity of the town.

Liking someone was a strange and complicated thing. A thing Tiz struggled with if talking to someone he had something resembling a liking for – all past examples were instances where said girl clearly only had the time for one of the older teen blacksmiths. In particular she approved of the occasions he cooled off after gruelling work, and stood around shirtless and sweaty in the bright morning air. Or the girl besotted with an twenty-something seamstress.

Which should make talking to either easy given he had no chance of gaining her affection. Except of course for the minor possibility there was a tiny chance of something developing between them. This did not help the accompanying sense the girl in question would absolutely know of his attraction and be able to read it off him like a note on the town’s message board.

Ebony represented a different quantity. And, however weird she was, she did not deserve to get pushed so far to the edges.

Tiz checked the sheep again. The last wolf attack in the region had been early last year but it never hurt to be cautious despite the chances of him stopping a wolf attack was minimal. As much as his parents insisted on the need to keep vigilant, other shepherds were honest about how the first anyone was aware a wolf was around was when the creature was stood atop the slain body of its victim.

No wolves in sight. And hopefully this little diversion would not be detrimental. Of course not. Tiz clambered up the hill assured in his ability to talk and keep an eye on the flock at the same time. Adults tended to take a dim view of this assertion in other circumstances, quite emphatic of his and other children’s inability to do the two things simultaneously. Adults felt they knew everything.

Ebony did not look around as Tiz made his way up the slope; she faced away from the fields, away from the mountains and instead directed her gaze down towards the distant Caldisla. “Hi.”

Her back stiffened, head jerking around as if to rebuke him. She tried to hide the movement, reaching out to pick a flower instead. “Hey.” Her voice was low and pulled a petal from the flower.

Tiz glanced back to the sheep. Still all fine. “Mind if I sit?”

Ebony continued to pluck the petals and shrugged. “Not my hill.”

He settled onto the grass beside her, facing back the way he came. Slightly more of a breeze at this marginally elevated height. “Nice day.”

“I guess.” She detached the stalk from the flower and tossed both aside.

Much of what drew attention and varying degrees of mockery from the rest of the village was Ebony’s choice of clothing. Rumours swirled about quite where she had obtained any of it – whether hand-made or painstakingly shipped from Caldisla or further afield. Florem sounded a likely contender based on numerous conversations of apparent wilder apparel popular there. No certainties; conjecture pieced out of the fleeting conversations from adults whose unusual pasts lead them across the wider world.

More precisely the unusual aspect of Ebony’s clothes was the colour.

Ebony’s clothes were black. Not one earth-tone was present in her wardrobe but neither were her clothes coloured anything resembling the simplistic dyes the seamstresses of the village tended to employ.

But despite this her clothes were not completely, uniformly black. Motes of dust clung to the fabric, a stray brush of near invisible mud at the bottom of her skirt. The slight fray on exposed seams were grey. Possibly she had some grass-stains at this point. Tiz shifted a little. And from certain angles, the black of her blouse seemed less black and more a deep, dark shade of grey. The more he looked the more the separation was clear; her skirt was deepest, darkest blue.

The homemade theory at least made some sense given Ebony’s theoretical apprenticeship was to the seamstresses, though any previous conversations lead back to a strenuous denial her clothes were her own creations. This made some sense; no one was sure where she would get so much black dye from. But how and where did she find those clothes? Tiz queried it once on their previous conversation and was none the wiser, but did learn her preference for wearing black was not indicative of a lack of creativity.

Ebony aspired to deep reds and purples; to garments requiring huge quantities of extremely prohibitively expensive and rare dyes. The kind of thing the seamstress might never dream of obtaining, let alone using to such excess. Ebony also seemingly strongly favoured style over practicality; a less than ideal stance in the isolated farming community.

And now Tiz could not help but wonder if she dyed her hair somehow. A dim and distant memory of lighter hair back when she let people call her Naru could indicate she did. The paleness of her skin might be incidental; the seamstresses spent a lot less time under the sun than many professions. Tiz broke the silence. “Gil for your thoughts?”

The comment earned him a glare and a roll of her eyes. “Not obvious enough?” Ebony gestured away from the town. “I want to go out there. I don’t want to get stuck in the village all my life. Making clothes.” She picked at some dust on her skirt.

Tiz blinked. Norende was Norende; a whole world. There was more to it out there, but it was separate. Not Norende. To seek out the rest of it felt odd somehow. Unnecessary. Or perhaps more, he could not find a reason why one should. “Where... Where do you want to see?”

“I don’t know.” She huffed. “Somewhere. Anywhere.” Ebony gestured again. “Everywhere.” She picked at the grass again. “I just don’t want to be here all the time.”

“So why not go?”

“Oh. Wow. I’d never thought of that before.” Tiz grimaced at her monotone, mocking voice. Ebony rolled her eyes. “If it was so easy I would have gone before. Sure, I think I can make it to Caldisla but what about after?” She met his gaze. “Need money. Need to get a job as I go. And want to guess what I can do?”

“Make clothes?”

“Make clothes!” She cracked a wry smile. “Not sure how many traveling seamstresses the world needs.” Her face wrinkled with distaste. “And like, sure I could get a job in a kitchen. Or sweeping floors, but I want to travel.”

“Monster slaying could work?” Why, oh why, did he say these things without pausing first?

Ebony naturally scoffed. “You think I could fight well?” She held up her arm and rolled the sleeve back revealing a thin, pale-skinned arm. “Have you seen my muscles?” She shook her head and let her sleeve fall back. “What I need is some rich prince. Someone who’ll come in and sweep me off my feet. Ferry me around the world. Wherever I want to go.” Ebony stared upwards into the sky; she tilted her head to look at him again. “You’re not secretly rich are you?”

“Me? What? No.” Wait. What? Did she mean if he was rich-

“Need to find someone else then.” She sighed.

Tiz shoved the unexpected implications of her question to one side. “Okay. How about the peddlers?”

“Them?” She looked confused. “What about them?”

“Well.” Not fully thinking thoughts out again before speaking. “They travel around. And they need apprentices. And they fix clothes. They actually are kind of travelling seamstresses?” Ebony blinked at him. “I mean, I know they aren’t rich, but if you can somehow get in with one as an apprentice or something you might get somewhere. Or at least be able to start travelling.” He held his breath.

Ebony frowned, seemingly deep in thought. “That actually works.”

Tiz let out his breath and spoke in a rush. “Just a thought. I mean, not sure what kind of life it would be and all that.” How would it look if Ebony immediately vanished, last seen in discussion with a peddler and some good natured questions pointed back to either this moment or directly to Tiz forcing an admission the idea came from him? Not good.

“Oh I know.” Touch of a smile on her face now. “But... Thank you.” She leant towards him before he could react and kissed his cheek. The act dazed Tiz and left him blinking at her. With a deep breath, Ebony got to her feet.

“Please don’t just run off.” A final plead; the look in Ebony’s eye suggested she was going to pack her bags and seek out a peddler caravan right this second.

“I won’t, I won’t. But I need to get back to work. Need practice.” She hurried away, back across the field towards Norende. And stopped. “Tiz!”

“What?” he called back.

“You can come too. Bring some sheep. Raw materials and all that.” She was grinning.

“I’ll think about it.” Tiz shouted back.

And he did for a while, smiling at the memory for the rest of the day. But Ebony left Norende with a peddler caravan without him; Tiz chose to stay, to tend the sheep, to spend time with his brother. To live out his life. Still happy. Still content. Until the day Norende fell into the ground.


End file.
